But no one came near. The only sounds were birdsong and the light breeze that shivered through the treetops. Danny refilled the hole he had dug and replaced the leaf litter and the flat stone. When he and Fergus left, there would be no sign of them ever having been there.

Danny stood up and checked the area where he had worked. It was just as it had been when he'd arrived. His grandfather would be pleased, if he ever reached the ERV. They had often discussed their contingency escape plans, and even though Danny wasn't panicking, he was worried.

All he could do now was wait. If his grandfather hadn't shown up when the six hours were up, he was on his own. But he wasn't thinking about that, not yet.

He sat down with his back to the tree trunk and peered out through the trees in the direction he had come from. Nothing. No one. He glanced upwards: the sky was as grey and cold as the rocks that lay all around.

For all he knew he might never see his grandfather again. He might already be dead. They had known each other for little more than a year, but in that year so much had happened. They'd spent much of it on the run, battling to clear Fergus of the false accusations levelled against him.

Now they were on the run again. Things hadn't gone well between Danny and Fergus in the four months since their escape from New York. They'd become almost like strangers again.

Danny sighed. 'He's always making me run away. Like I'm still a kid, like he still doesn't trust me. I could have stayed and helped him.'

He stared through the trees again, knowing in his heart that his grandfather had been protecting him. Fergus couldn't run any more; two gunshot wounds in the same leg meant that swift movement was impossible, whereas Danny was an experienced cross-country runner. Fergus had stood his ground to fight so that his grandson could escape.

Danny sighed again. 'He's probably gone and got himself killed.'